Somebody Else's Sky (Something in the Way 2)

“I didn’t tell you so you’d say it back,” she said. “I never planned to say it. I’m not even sure how I feel about it. Love is weird. Like, I know my dad loves me, but sometimes I think to myself, ‘my dad hates me.’”

Jesus Christ. I wasn’t even sure where to start with that. “He doesn’t—”

“I know he doesn’t hate me,” she said, waving her hand. “But he is disappointed in me, and I feel like I can’t do anything right. When I try, I mess it up, or it isn’t good enough.”

It frustrated me to hear her talk that way—and that she was right. The truth was, Tiffany had everything going for her. She had the potential to succeed if she’d let go of this thing with her dad. “You need to see yourself outside your dad’s eyes,” I told her. “You’ve said to me before that you don’t have the skills to do anything other than model, but that’s just plain bullshit. You’re smart and crafty and you’re goddamn tenacious. That’s a rare quality, Tiff. That’ll get you far.”

Tiffany looked taken aback, and I realized I’d raised my voice. Good. I hoped she’d heard me. She did have some qualities I hadn’t come across too much in my life. For one, I’d just told her I didn’t love her, and she’d barely batted an eyelash. For a sheltered Newport Beach girl, she was tougher than she looked.

“And let’s get one thing straight,” I added. “I’m not going to pretend I love you because I care too much about you to lie, but that doesn’t mean I’m withholding it to punish you like your dad. Got it?”

She nodded, slowly at first, and then a little harder. “I understand. It’s like I do things to get him to notice, and . . . that’s wrong. Once I move out, and he’s not around all the time, I can start focusing on what I want.”

“Yeah.” I felt a strange sense of pride, like I’d gotten through to her a little bit. “You still want me to move in? Or you want to be on your own a while?”

“I want you there. I mean, geez. Can’t you see how good you are for me?”

For some reason, that dislodged something in my chest. Good. I wasn’t good, but I wanted to be better. Better than the man who’d attacked a guard. Better than one who repeated his dad’s mistakes.

“You were in that place for over two months,” Tiffany continued, “but that counted toward your sentence. Grimes told me if you have no more incidents, you might still be eligible for early release.”

I rubbed my jaw. I knew that, but I’d been so concerned about the fact that I was no longer getting out early, I hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that I could get it back—but only if I stayed on track. “It’s not as simple as just going home with you, though. I’ll be on parole when I get out. They’ll want to interview you. I’ll be subjected to random searches. I could have a PO who’s a dick and makes my life hell. You didn’t sign up for all that.”

“You think I would’ve visited just anyone every month for a year?” She opened her hands in front of her and counted off her fingers. “I went to your landlord, broke your lease, sold your stuff to help pay your fees. I got a job, and I’ve been working hard. You don’t know since I haven’t seen you, but I’m up for a promotion to assistant manager. For you. To show you I can be better.”

Better. It was what both of us wanted. We had work to do, and somehow, lifting her up had forced me to up my game as well. I knew Tiffany had been trying, but she’d be twenty-one soon. I’d assumed that was part of it, getting older, maturing. I hadn’t considered it might all be for me. “Why?” I asked.

“Why what?” She sounded exasperated.

“Why me?” As soon as I said it, I realized I’d been wanting to know since her first visit, but pointing it out to her would’ve only driven her away, and I’d needed someone then. “Why’d you go sort things with my landlord and take care of my shit and why do you still come around?”

She swallowed audibly, pulling her hands into her lap. “Because it’s nice to feel needed.”

The question was, who needed whom? “I didn’t mean that the way it came out,” I said. “I’m not sure who would’ve done it if you hadn’t. I’m glad you did. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I know.” Her expression eased. She did know. It was one of the things I’d always liked about her. Sometimes, her confidence wavered, but I liked that she faked it anyway.